YUMA, Ariz. – When the Padres made the first of 25 annual spring migrations to this community, their original tulip in the desert, the year was 1969 and David Funk was waiting. Funk, in fact, hosted a party so the team's forefathers could be properly introduced to the elite of Yuma's civic establishment, the latter having paid for the privilege.

"We charged $25 per person," Funk recalled recently. "I think we raised about $50,000, which was used as funding for the spring training facility."

Always eager to reciprocate when a benefactor is involved, the Padres over the years no doubt returned those funds many times over – usually in individual increments. The Funk family at that time was owner of the Yuma Greyhound Track, which sat at one edge of the city – a beacon in the night for young men with money in their pockets.

Never mind that the pockets were small, befitting a fledgling franchise with a $500,000 payroll. The alternative in the Yuma of those years was watching blowing sand peel paint from your automobile.

As for the track being a destination, there was leadership. "Buzzie was there almost every night," Funk said.

Buzzie, of course, being Buzzie Bavasi, who has been known to approach a mutuel window on occasion. Thus, Bavasi was not at the track to pet greyhounds or run a curfew check. If the first president of an expansion franchise green-lights the venue, it figures that those passing through turnstiles would include a number of the .250 hitters he'd assembled.

"I sincerely believe that track kept our young men out of trouble," Bavasi said. "Yuma was an ideal training site. Other than the track there was nothing to do but get in shape."

During that era, the Funks were Arizona's first family of greyhound racing. They'd begun by building a property in Phoenix, owned another near Prescott and, when offered an opportunity to purchase tracks at Apache Junction and Yuma from the San Diego-based John Alessio family, did so. At various times, they also owned tracks in Portland, Ore.; Pensacola, Fla.; and the greyhound component of the Caliente operation.

"The only reason we got involved in Yuma was because we wanted Apache Junction and the two were a package," said Funk, whose father (David Sr.) was the family visionary and bankroller.

"Dad saw that I came up through the ranks," Funk said. "My first job was scooping dog poop off the track. It didn't get a lot better for a while."

By the year those first Padres crossed the mountains, Funk was general manager of the Yuma track and eagerly awaiting major league baseball's impact. "For the farming community we were, it was huge," he says. "It was the beginning of the snowbird era. It made the town."

Had citizens of Yuma been familiar with the trappings of a vintage professional franchise, their first glimpse of San Diego's finest would have triggered more alarms than a Santa Ana-driven wildfire. Before the ragtag roster began assembling, point man and traveling secretary Doc Mattei arrived with the club's equipment, ferried over in a milk truck with its driver in the only seat and Doc perched on an overturned milk case.

With completion of the training facility still months in the distance, the Padres' first spring home was a city park. Clubhouse was the dressing area of a swimming pool. For showers, Mattei commissioned construction of a clapboard outdoor facility, advising the engineering crew thusly: "Leave off the bottom two boards. We don't care if somebody sees our boys' legs, and it'll improve the ventilation."

So that his major leaguers would have easy access to loved ones back home, Doc had a pay phone installed and placed a roll of dimes on top.

One can understand why the greyhounds were popular. They reminded players of buses being a way out of town.

Instead, in 1994 they moved to their plush digs in Peoria. "That was a shock to the town," said Funk, whose family sold the racetrack in 1980. "The last time I saw the plant, I was heartsick over the way they'd let it go to hell. I'm told they don't plan to apply for a new license, either. They'll go strictly with off-track wagering.

"Still, there are many fond memories of our Yuma days."

Funk shared one. He and coaches Johnny Podres and Don Zimmer were in a Yuma pool hall one spring afternoon when taunting by local cowboys prompted a strategic withdrawal. As they reached Funk's automobile, Zimmer suddenly remembered having left an item inside and re-entered the parlor.

"Don was gone quite awhile," Funk said, "and when he finally returned his right hand already was swelling."

Afraid of the consequences if Bavasi learned he'd been in combat with Yuma locals, Zimmer refused to report to the Padres' trainer. Funk's search for an available doctor eventually ended at the office of a gynecologist.

Later, facing the Padres president with a cast on his broken right hand, a nervous Zimmer was asked: "Did you win the fight?"

"No contest." Zimmer said.

"Good thing," Bavasi said. "No fine, then. If you'd lost, it would have cost you $100."

Don't laugh. In those days, that was serious seed money at the Yuma dog track. Former U-T sports columnist Tom Cushman writes occasionally for the paper. He can be reached at tcushmant@gbronline.com